Spells for Forgetting(20)

She disappeared beneath the white foam before springing up again, and her pale blond hair straightened down her back, almost to her waist, where her underwear was nearly over her hips.

The bottle of beer I’d swiped from the pub dangled from my fingertips as I watched them, and I pressed the bottom of my bare feet to the warm stone beneath me. It was a rare sunny day for early spring and the water was too cold to swim, but they’d jumped from the outcropping anyway. The four of us had our rituals and on days like that, we walked straight to Halo Beach after school. But August had been summoned by his grandfather to the orchard. Again.

Lily pulled the strap of her bra back onto her shoulder and when Dutch reached for her again, she trudged up out of the water, collapsing onto the blanket beside me. She stretched out, balling up the dress she’d taken off behind her head like a pillow, and I let myself fall back to lie beside her. The sky was bright and clear with a few thick clusters of clouds, a stark contrast to the slate blue of the rough sea.

I let the beer drift toward her and Lily took it, draining the bottle before tossing it to the sand.

“What the hell is taking him so long?”

“I don’t know.” I closed my eyes, watching the red and orange dance behind my lids.

It felt like August had spent every waking moment at the orchard that year, working before and after school, sometimes until late at night. I’d never liked Henry Salt, but I hated August’s dad on those days, too, even though none of us remembered him. If he hadn’t left, it wouldn’t have all fallen to August.

Lily settled her cold cheek against my shoulder. It was like ice. “Let’s go up to Wilke’s Pointe tonight.”

“And do what?”

“I don’t know. Who cares?”

I turned my head to look at her. Her long arm was stretched out beside her, her fingers raking through the sand.

“We can sneak into the pub and—”

“I’ve hit my weekly quota of beer I can take without him noticing.” I stopped her.

“Fine. Then Dutch can raid his dad’s liquor cabinet. It’s his turn, anyway.”

Dutch shrugged in agreement before his eyes lifted over us, to the trees. “Finally!” His voice was hoarse with the inhale of the joint he was smoking.

I tipped my head back to see August’s shadow painting the rocks on the path that led into the trees. He was already pulling the shirt over his head and dropping it to the ground. The sheen of sweat glittered on his skin from hours of work at the orchard and his hair fell over his forehead, hiding his eyes. But his jaw was tight, the muscles in his neck and shoulders tense.

I sat up on my elbows, watching him wade out into the cold water. I knew what that look on his face meant. He’d had a fight with his grandfather.

Dutch pulled an unopened beer from the crate, popping the top off. When August climbed back up the rocks raking the seawater through his hair with his hands, Dutch handed it to him.

“We’re going up to Wilke’s Pointe tonight.” Lily shielded her eyes with one hand, looking up at him.

“I can’t. I have to work early.”

“God, you guys are so boring,” she whined.

August ignored her, finding a place beside me.

I watched him carefully as he lifted the bottle to his lips again. If I asked him, he’d say he was fine. And he wouldn’t talk to me in front of Dutch and Lily.

“What if we get you home before you turn into a pumpkin?” Lily tried again.

I could see the moment he realized there was no point in arguing with her. “Fine,” he said, and shrugged.

I hooked my hand into the crook of his arm and squeezed gently. The water dripped from his hair, carving paths down the expanse of his back where the faint shape of a healing bruise was just barely visible beneath his shoulder blade.

“I’m fine,” he said quietly, answering my unspoken question. But he didn’t meet my eyes when he said it.

Lily curled into me tighter. Her fair skin was covered in gooseflesh, her cheeks pink. “God, I’m freezing.”

“I told you not to go in,” I reminded her.

But telling Lily not to do something only ensured that she would. Especially if it was me saying it.

Dutch picked up the flannel shirt he’d taken off and tossed it to her before he offered her the joint. Lily stared at it for a moment before she took it, taking a drag. But she left the flannel, wrapping her arms around her knees and shivering.

Dutch shook his head, a bitter laugh trapped in his throat.

“What?” Lily glared at him.

“Nothing. You’re just so predictable sometimes.”

There was a beat of silence as her eyes narrowed. “What the fuck is that supposed to mean?” she snapped.

I looked between them, but Dutch turned back toward the water, ignoring her.

Lily rolled her eyes. “I have to go. My dad’s going to be out looking for me.” She got back to her feet and shook out her dress before pulling it back on. Then she planted a kiss on top of my head, snatching up her sandals from the rocks. “I’ll meet you at your house.”

“Bye.” I pulled my sweater tighter around me. In another five minutes, the wind would be unbearably cold.

Dutch watched Lily walk into the trees before he tossed the last of his joint into the water. “I gotta go, too.” He stepped over me, dropping his empty bottle back into the crate.